


Beneath The Masks of Monsters

by iDiru



Series: The Mask The Monsters Wear-verse [2]
Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Betrayal, Break Up, Choking, F/M, Face Slapping, Heterosexual Sex, I can't write children, M/M, Mpreg, Pining, Roman has anger issues, Tags to be added, Trust Issues, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex, time skip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDiru/pseuds/iDiru
Summary: Three years have passed since Nikki's birth, and Peter finds himself back in the same situation. Only this time, he has less problems, but still has to deal with unexpected new ones.Sequel toThe Mask The Monsters Wear
Relationships: Roman Godfrey/Original Female Character(s), Roman Godfrey/Peter Rumancek
Series: The Mask The Monsters Wear-verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857556
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Beneath The Masks of Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is. The sequel. You didn't think I was going to let this be angst free, did you? But don't worry. It will work out. 
> 
> There are some things that I'm not putting in the tags yet because they will give away twists. It's unfortunate...but I don't want it all to be laid out in the tags. So I'll put them up when I add the chapters that have them. I honestly wish I could keep them out because they will give away the chapters content but I don't want to upset anyone. 
> 
> Also, I can't write kids so this is difficult for me. But I'm trying my best. 
> 
> Also there's art at the end. A lot of it.

Pay attention to your dreams, don't pay attention to your dreams...Destiny had seemed to flip flop on the subject several times. Three years ago, Peter had tried to go with the latter suggestion; to just ignore it. But no matter how hard he tried, prophetic dreams were just that; warnings of the future. And now here he sat, three years later, on the couch of his quaint little trailer in the woods, waiting on Roman to return with his daughter from his time of custody. Of course it was all set in good faith; Peter didn't want to involve the law in their life as much as he possibly could. Lynda sat next to him; a gesture of good faith on Roman's part before things had gone too sour. He'd basically paid for her freedom. Tonight happened to be the night before the full moon and as usual, Lynda took Nikki if Roman didn't have her.

“I really hope he didn't stop and get her ice cream again,” Peter said with a sigh. Not that he didn't want his daughter to abstain from sweets, but it was late and it was not the first time Roman returned a sugared up child to him.

“Don't worry, I can handle her,” Lynda assured. “You used to be a wild child once, you know.”

The door suddenly opened, like Roman lived there or something. He still hadn't figured out knocking, after all these years.

“Sorry we're late, we couldn't find Rufus.”

Nikki bounded in after Roman, her little feet stomping in excitement as she flounced around without a care. In her arms she held a floppy, weird little cat/rat thing. Rufus; they were all Rufus. Her room had half a dozen of the same plushies in different colors. She was obsessed with them. Peter sometimes had to fight her to not take _all_ of them to Roman's. 

Nikki had certainly changed in these past years. Of course she had, she was three now. She had neck length dark, brown hair with bangs that sat above her large green eyes. She still had a button nose and Roman's lips, offset by chubby cheeks. She liked dresses and dolls, but sometimes had a bit of a play in the dirt streak.

“Gamma!” Nikki shouted, running towards Lynda and hugging her legs as she sat on the couch next to him. “We goin' ta your house?”

“We are!” Lynda said enthusiastically. Nikki seemed to already know the routine. If Lynda was there late, after Roman brought her home, it was usually to go to her house. He had already taken the liberty of packing her a bag before she got there. It took a few moments to get her overnight bag, full of essentials, back into the bag of clothes he'd packed for her. Once that was settled though, they were off. Or, nearly. Nikki hugged Roman's legs, uttering a “Bye-bye, Daddy,” before coming to Peter and doing the same.

“Be good for grandma,” Peter said, and then he watched the two of them walk out the door together. He watched Roman round the small island into the kitchen, stepping into the reflective surfaces of tile and steel to grab a beer from his fridge.

“Same shit?” he called to him.

“Same shit,” Peter responded.

Roman returned with two beers, setting one on the coffee table and sitting down next to Peter. This was their routine, however awkward it might be sometimes. Since Nikki was born, the wolf had been cantankerous. It was content to sleep most of the time. That was, until the night before the full moon and the day of it. When he was alone it howled in rage and fear. It searched for its missing offspring, driving him mad. Unless Peter was distracted by someone else. Sometimes it was Destiny, or Lynda, but other times it was Roman. Roman was _damn_ lucky Peter let him be the one to comfort him in his time of need. Hell, he was lucky he even got to see his own kid, but Peter knew he had to make this work. That there had to be some inkling of trust between them if they were ever going to raise a child together successfully.

Peter didn't hate Roman. In fact, he was sure he still loved him...but he had been burned, and badly. And he _knew_ Roman regretted it. He knew Roman was biding his time until he could snatch Peter back into his life, and maybe Peter might allow it...but not yet. Those burns were still too fresh. Even after two years. They were healing, true; healing enough to let him back into his life minutely, but they were still pink and raw. He could tell himself it wasn't Roman's fault, and it _wasn't_ , he didn't think. That it was the brain injury, that it hadn't yet healed completely. And as far as he could tell Roman _had_ gotten better, but...he wasn't ready to make that leap.

He watched as Roman dug next to him on the couch to move a Rufus, and one lone little doll, setting it on the end table next to him. Peter mindlessly turned on the TV, just to have some background noise. It droned on quietly as he opened his on beer, taking a swig and setting it on the opposite end table next to him.

“Your daughter...” Roman started, taking a swig of his beer.

“My daughter?” Peter asked with mild enmity.

“ _Nikki_ ,” Roman corrected. “Got into another fight with Nadia.”

“Why is she just _my_ daughter whenever she does something wrong?” Peter asked with a scoff. “She start it?”

“I don't know who started it...” Roman said, taking another swig. “I was gone for five seconds and I came back to them beating the crap out of each other,”

“Ugh,” Peter said, taking his own drink. “For being so close they sure as hell fight a lot, lately.”

“Does she fight with Vincent?”

“Sometimes. I'm pretty sure all kids fight.”

It's not like Peter _wanted_ Nikki fighting, but he knew it was a fact of life. He of course put a stop to it if he ever caught her, though. Luckily she didn't fight enough to get kicked out of daycare. A second time, anyway. Peter had a feeling the current daycare didn't like him much but he didn't have that many options. Unless Roman had his way with it and put her in some fancy Montessori school but it's not like where he lived was overflowing with them. There, or Hemlock Grove. He wasn't quite sure she was ready for preschool like Nadia was, though.

It's not like Vincent was a perfect kid either, though. Of course any son born to Destiny would have some kind of wild streak. Boy, could that kid be wild.

The night continued with idle conversation, with the drinks slowly disappearing and giving way to more illegal substances. It wasn't unusual. This was their routine when Roman came over; drinking, smoking and shooting the shit. Peter enjoyed it, but memories would pop up in the back of his mind when he looked in certain angles. But he'd push them back; he had to. Roman was his company for the night. He was too drunk and high to drive to Destiny's; now that he'd moved, it wasn't quite as close as it once was. About half an hour's drive. Besides, she had Vincent for the night and lord knows Peter would hate to be on the receiving end of her wrath if he woke him up. That kid probably needed NyQuil to go to sleep.

Regardless, he was pretty sure Roman was still pining over him. He was good about keeping quiet about it, at least. He could see it in the way he looked at him, though. That kind of longing look he had before they'd truly gotten together. Peter knew it now. That's what Peter had thought, anyway. Thought Roman had it together... But maybe not. He wasn't sure what prompted it. He wasn't sure what signals he'd given off, but at some point, Roman kissed him. Grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him quickly. It had stunned Peter at first, and he was left sitting there dazed for a moment.

“Fuck, I'm sorry,” Roman said, his words just slightly slurred. “You just looked...” he trailed off. Peter briefly brought a finger to his own lips, touching the place where Roman had kissed him. He could feel some fire starting to awaken within him. He could feel the flush of heat in his face. Peter was realizing now that he hadn't been kissed like that for a _long_ time. It's not like he had time to date, between work and Nikki. Besides, who was interested in a single father?

He could have just left it alone. Told Roman off for kissing him but let him stay regardless, because he needed him there (for now). But he didn't...He realized he liked it, even if it was with Roman. Roman who he was quite sure he still had feelings for, who he shouldn't lead on, who he shouldn't get caught up with again, and yet...Stupidity, or intoxication of varying degrees, lead him to surge forward to return the kiss. It was a bit slower, more intimate, but he ended up pulling away nonetheless after a moment.

“I haven't been kissed in a long time...” he confessed. Roman let out a slightly shuddered breath, and Peter watched his eyes glance towards his lips. He brought a hand up to grace the back of Peter's neck, and Peter flinched slightly but quickly warmed up to it. It wasn't exactly a place he wanted Roman to touch, but it was intimate, and like kissing he had not been touched intimately in some time. He leaned in once more, as Roman did, and their lips met for a third time that night. It was tender, deep and slow.

The heat was rising in him again, heavy in his stomach and flush in his face. It would take a fool to ignore where this would lead. But Peter ignored it nonetheless. He wanted to keep going for now. He hadn't realized it before but he was touch starved. The presence of Roman's hand at the back of his neck sent little pinpricks of need and mild anxiety.

“I missed this...” Roman said, sounding somewhat breathless as he pulled away just long enough to speak.

“Don't talk,” Peter warned before Roman kissed him again. He didn't want to know. He didn't want to think of it...The kind of shit Roman probably had in his head now. He kept telling himself to stop, that he needed to put his foot down before it got serious. But Roman had his hand in his hair, kissing him hard and Peter was melting under it.

Why was tonight different? What had made Roman so bold? It wasn't the first time they'd gotten drunk or high together. It wasn't the first time Peter had seen him pining. Was he just biding his time, waiting? Peter was beginning to wonder just how much he should trust him, but every time he thought about stopping, Roman just drew him in more. Roman soon found his way from Peter's mouth to his neck, and he stiffened up slightly at the contact. But he had to admit it felt...nice. Roman was definitely leaving marks, though. Peter's hand felt its way into Roman's hair, tangling his fingers in it as he let out a heavy breath. God, he _wanted_ this. It had been so fucking long... He was hard in his jeans already, just from fucking kissing.

He found himself on his back suddenly, with Roman sucking welts into his neck. With his hands gliding up his chest, under his shirt. He moaned softly, arching his hips up in desperation. Oh God, he was getting worked up so fucking easily. He was embarrassed. He almost didn't want Roman to see him like this. Briefly, he had a memory of the first time they'd really fucked. The sex that brought Nikki into the world. How desperate he'd been, and how embarrassed. But this was not the same. He was far more conscious, far more aware of the embarrassment.

Roman seemed even more insistent by Peter's reactions, pushing his shirt up and trailing his lips and tongue down further, along his neck and to his collar bone. His tongue languidly traced the jagged scars on his skin,before he gently grazed his teeth along them. Peter had suddenly had enough of this and reached up to grab Roman by the hair, pulling him away roughly.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Peter asked, perturbed but no less aroused.

“Fuck, I'm sorry Peter- It was an accident,” Roman stammered, sitting up now as Peter did.

“Can I even trust you right now?” Peter asked. There was hurt somewhere in his voice.

“Yes, I promise- I just got too into it, I won't do it again.”

“Fine...” Peter said, standing up from the couch. “Come on,” he said, heading off to the bedroom. Even if they were just going to make out, it was way more comfortable on his bed. Roman followed him like some eager puppy. As soon as they'd entered, Roman practically knocked him back onto the bed, kissing him the whole way. Peter was growing tired of of Roman's insistence and the minute he felt secure enough on the bed, he gripped Roman's hips with his thighs and managed to flip him over onto his back with enough effort. It was very obvious in this position, with Peter nearly sitting on Roman's hips, that Roman was definitely just as aroused as he was.

“Calm down, Jesus Christ. You're gonna smother me,”

“You think I've been with anyone either?” Roman asked, somewhat accusatory. “I need this too.”

“Then you picked the wrong person to try to dominate,” Peter said, reaching up to grab Roman's wrists and pin them back against the bed, “After what you did.”

“I'm sorry...” Roman said, avoiding his gaze. “It was two fucking years ago, Peter-” Roman was silenced as Peter leaned down to kiss him.

“Shut up before you ruin it,” Peter murmured against his lips. He released Roman's wrists to brace himself against the bed, albeit only slightly as he was mostly laying on Roman at the moment. He worked his hips against Roman's as he kissed him, moaning softly into his mouth as their tongues danced. He felt Roman's hands settle on his hips, squeezing lightly before one hand snaked around to grab his ass. He could feel his breath, heavy, sighing and passing into his lungs. It was so warm...so hot, God, he was so hot. There was fire burning through his veins now, settled deep in his groin. There was lightning on his skin from where Roman touched him. From where he ground against him. Like a storm, growing and growing until he felt like it might become a hurricane.

He stopped, realizing now how frantic he'd gotten. How his moaning had turned from soft to something with much more feeling behind it. He had gotten too close, too fast. This wasn't good... He didn't want to come like this. Truth be told, he was looking forward to getting fucked. He hadn't had it in such a long time, but how could he go on like this? When he'd worked himself up so fast? He would have to take control of the entire situation...But as for right now he was embarrassed. They were both still dressed and he'd almost come in his pants.

“What is it?” Roman asked, gingerly running a hand along his side.

“I'm too sensitive,” Peter mumbled, opening his eyes; he hadn't even realized he'd closed them. “I don't even get to jerk off half the time, it's been too long...”

“We'll take it slow then,” Roman assured.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, slipping his own shirt off afterwards. “It's fucking embarrassing,” he tossed the shirt to the side and slid off Roman's lap momentarily, working on his pants next.

“Take your clothes off,” he commanded, sitting next now as he finished disrobing completely. He watched as Roman began to undress, though he was ashamed to say that he watched. There was something almost surreal about it. Watching an ex undress, and fucking said ex. His eyes scanned over his body, his mind remembering each dip and curve as they had been those few years ago. He'd barely changed, but neither had Peter.

Roman hadn't been undressed more than a few moments before Peter was climbing back onto him. The sudden skin to skin contact made him whimper with excitement and pleasure. He bit his lip to silence himself, brow furrowed and eyes squinted shut in irritation at himself.

“I feel like a fuckin' virgin,” Peter said, hovering above Roman for a moment before he kissed him again. He laid against him, content to kiss him for the moment. To feel his bare flesh beneath him, to breathe in the vague scent of expensive shampoo and soap still distantly clinging to his skin. He wondered if he was so worked up because he hadn't gotten any action in so long, or if it was because it was with Roman. It was almost as taboo as the first time. Instead of sleeping with a friend though, it was more like sleeping with an enemy. And Roman wasn't his _enemy_ per sey, but...

“Are you sure this is normal?” Roman asked, pulling away from him momentarily. There was some amount of hesitation in his voice. “Like it's not...you know,” he gestured, but Peter didn't see it because he was on top of him.

“I'd know,” Peter reassured him. “ _You'd_ know.”

Peter reached over to his bedside table and dug through the drawer to pull out a tube of lube and set it to Roman's side, still hovering over him slightly. “Make yourself useful, and take it slow.”

Roman, in response, worked to squeeze the lube onto his fingers above Peter's back. It was not without casualties. Peter felt the cool liquid drip down onto his skin and his body tensed, his back arching away from the coolness even though that wasn't possible. He felt Roman's fingers grace his lower entrance and he shivered from the contact, feeling that heat in his stomach get even hotter. Despite the fact that he told Roman to take things slow, he bucked his hips back towards him, craving the sensation of being filled. Roman hadn't even gotten into him yet; he was merely rubbing his fingers along the area in an attempt to get him to relax enough. He had to force himself to stay still so he didn't get worked up so easily.

“Are you really sure this isn't...?” Roman asked, sounding nervous. The rest of the words dying on his tongue. They both knew what they meant.

“I'm fucking sure,” Peter snapped. He was just touch starved.

Roman finally managed to slip his finger inside, and Peter had to bite down on his lip to stay silent. Roman was already freaking out, unwarranted. Peter was actually starting to question it but he _knew_ what the estruses were like. All day torture. Peter felt fine, other than being exceptionally horny now that he'd been worked up. He was unsuccessful at staying still, grinding his hips against Roman's fingers as he buried his face in his shoulder, muffling the quiet whimpers against his flesh. Several times he found himself having to slow down or stop due to the pleasure ramping up far quicker than he'd like.

“Jesus Christ, Peter...” Roman practically moaned against him. “You're so needy.”

“Fuck off,” he whined, moaning as Roman slipped in a third finger. He hadn't even realized he'd put in a second. He felt like he was on fire now. His whole body alight; a kind of fire that almost scared him. But he wanted _so_ badly to be touched. This all seemed to be moving so fast, though. Just moments ago it felt like they were on the couch; this whole thing stemming from the simplest of kisses. Now Peter was ready to fuck him without question. He was starting to have regrets, but Roman accidentally bumped his prostate and Peter felt his body melt. He let out a startled moan, his hips shifting with need.

“I need you...” Peter said, a breathless whisper hidden in a whimper. “Please.”

He felt Roman pull out of him, and he truly longed to be filled again. He felt so empty, and he felt the spark inside him dull. He wanted that spark to reignite. He sat up suddenly, once again hovering over Roman on his knees as he reached to grab the lube. He quickly poured some onto his hand before reaching behind him, stroking Roman's cock with it and earning a quiet moan from him. Holding the base, he steadied it while he sank back onto it. The two of them cried out in unison, Peter feeling the spark return as he was slowly filled again. He felt he could scarcely breath, his lungs caught up in a cry he couldn't seem to release. So he stayed open mouth, brow furrowed and eyes closed as his lungs refused to work. Only able to take in shuddering gasps. He felt Roman's hands come to grab his hips once more, to guide him downward as he released his cock and used both hands to brace against Roman's chest. Once he was fully seated on him, he finally opened his eyes once more. Breathing heavily, he gazed down at Roman who looked like he _so_ badly wanted to say something to him. For a moment, looking at him, he had the realization that this was likely a mistake. But he was too far gone to care at the moment.

He felt such _relief_ now that he was seated on him, with his cock buried deep within him. How could he have gone this long without touch, feeling now that he so desperately needed it? He barely took pause, barely let himself adjust at all. He rocked his hips shallowly against Roman, his movements punctuated by heavy sighs. He watched as Roman bit his lip; watched him watch Peter. His eyes scanning his body in a way that was not at all subtle. A low and quiet curse slipped from his lips, which were swollen by kisses and biting. They called to him, and he leaned forward just enough to kiss him. Still forcing himself back onto Roman's cock as Roman met him with his thrusts. He felt Roman abandon his hips with one hand coming to tangle in Peter's hair. Roman was quiet, as he always tended to be. But he could still feel his breath, hot and heavy, against his mouth. He breathed in his sighs, and Roman breathed in his. But Peter was less sighing and more letting out whining moans, thinking he was doing okay when the pleasure suddenly began ramping up far too fast again. He jerked back, sitting up straight now and pinning Roman down by sitting hard against him.

He trembled slightly, breathing in deeply and letting it out slow in an attempt to calm himself.

“Seriously?” Roman asked. It was only mildly irritated; it was mostly filled with confusion more than anything else.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Peter said. “We gotta be slow...just let me know when you're close, and I can stop holding back.” Peter took a few more calming breaths and then continued. Like before, it was a slow and shallow. Roman seemed mildly perturbed by the idea but Peter was able to make it work. He was methodical with it. Almost paying so much attention to how he kept his pace that it distracted him from most of the pleasure. It worked, but it wasn't as pleasant as it could have been. Peter would have thought it would have been unpleasant for Roman, but even being so slow he watched Roman slowly lose himself. His breathing picking up, released in pleasured sighs that sometimes carried Peter's name. His grip tight on his hips, desperately wanting to push him back down as he rose but showing restraint. But even slow, Peter didn't know how much longer he could last. He desperately wanted _more_ despite the fact that he would come too quickly. He loved how filled he felt, how good Roman's cock felt in him, the way his hands gripped his flesh. His body was begging for more, but begging for longer as well. He could only give it one of those things, he thought, until Roman spoke up.

“I'm getting close,” Roman said, breathlessly as he thrust up into him. “Let me fuck you like I used to.”

“Don't make me regret it,” Peter responded, panting just the same. Roman barely waited after that responds, managing to flip Peter onto his back. He pushed both of his legs towards his chest, wasting no time in fucking into him much harder. Peter let out a low moan, breathless and wavering as it fled with curses. Roman had been good about not directly hitting his prostate before, but he abandoned this notion now and angled towards it. It felt so fucking good that Peter felt like he was about to shatter into a million pieces. He could barely take in a breath before it was gone, fled from his lungs in a shaking cry of passion.

“You're fucking perfect,” Roman practically growled, still pumping his cock into him in quick, hard thrusts.

In a surprise twist, Roman actually came before him. He could feel the heat spill deep into his body, and this seemed to trigger his own orgasm. He came hard, _really_ hard. He could feel his body growing tenser and tenser before it hit, his belly boiling low with heat. When it finally hit, he jerked his hips up hard, his thighs shaking against his stomach. He could barely make a sound as his lungs clenched, his head tilted back and his throat exposed. If he was in the right state of mind he would have feared this, but he wasn't. He let out a low keening noise from the back of his throat as his lungs finally released.

When the two of them had finally calmed down, Roman pulled out and flopped bonelessly beside him. It was Peter this time who headed to the bathroom and procured a wet rag, wiping himself down with it and throwing it into the hamper. He brought another one back for Roman, who had yet to move. He tossed it at him unceremoniously and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Do you want me to go?” Roman asked, to which Peter shrugged.

“You're good for now. Unless you're planning on staying up. I'm fucking exhausted,” Peter said, yawning afterwards.

“That really took it out of you?”

“I am perpetually exhausted,” Peter said, turning off the lamp beside him and shrouding the room in darkness. “Some of us can't hire a nanny,” he quipped.

“I've offered,” Roman responded, a tinge of anger in his voice.

Peter was silent at this. He wanted to tell Roman he didn't want to rely on his handouts. Roman had offered many things. Roman had helped him get a house, had offered him lavish luxury but Peter settled on something small. It was the one thing that Peter allowed him to do, if only to get out from under him. He didn't want to owe Roman something in return. But he knew that if he told him that, it would just piss him off. He was already pissing himself off, but he decided to ignore it. It would be shitty of him to tell him to fuck off after what they'd just done, even if Peter was starting to regret it.

The wolf inside of him had gone back to sleep for the moment; it was probably due to his own exhaustion. Even with Roman's silence it was not howling inside his head. It gave him a brief respite to sleep, and so he did quite easily. He wished that his sleep had been blissfully vacant; a black abyss void of dreams. He had been free of any prophetic dreams for years now. But of course, the moment he slept with Roman they came rushing back. Or at least, they seemed prophetic. They followed that kind of strange formula that they often did.

He could see the tail end of a car, but it was shrouded by bushes. It was as though someone were looking at it from the other side of the road. It was stationary, meaning that it was stopped there. He could see the tail lights blaring in the dim light. Then, it suddenly blinked out. The vision had stopped. He saw the teeth again; the ones he'd three years ago. The one vision that never really had been explained yet. But it was back...and the teeth were as they were, biting through pink tissue. He saw the spreading cancerous thing that accompanied it. It changed to something else soon after. Blood; dripping blood, spreading in a puddle. But there was something else in the blood...some white, greenish fluid. Some kind of pus. He saw a hospital bed next, or part of one. Tubes and I.Vs abound. It was followed by teeth. Not the kind of teeth that he'd been seeing, but actual teeth, sinking into flesh, but not deep enough to do actual harm. But his last vision...the one that truly woke him, was the worst. He felt like he couldn't breathe; he felt a hand around his throat, and a stinging, sharp pain on his collar bone. He gazed down to see blood pouring down his front in rivers. It was then that he finally awoke.

He shot up in bed, his hand going to his throat, finding it barren. It next traveled to his collarbone. His fingers graced the scar there, running over it and remembering. That last vision hadn't been a vision at all, it was more akin to a memory. He looked over to Roman who was still asleep beneath the covers. An intense feeling of regret washed over him. He hated himself for this; he hated that he'd allowed this to happen. After what Roman had done to him...he was angry. Angry at both of them. Angry and hurt. He didn't want to look at him right now, he didn't want him in his bed. He wasn't even sure he wanted him in the house. Roman must have felt him watching him, as he awoke a minute later.

“You good?” he murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You need to leave...” Peter said after a moment. He averted his gaze; he didn't want to see Roman's reaction.

“What? What the fuck, Peter?” He asked, now sitting up. “What the fuck was the point of me leaving Nadia with the sitter if you were just going to kick me out?”

“We shouldn't have done this!” Peter hissed. “I just...I don't want you here right now, okay? Please.”

Roman gave out something like a growl, throwing himself out of bed, turning on the light by his bed and searching for his clothes.

“This shit happened two years ago, Peter,” he said, anger in his tone. “I can't go back and fix it now, but I've changed!” he said, putting on his clothes. “Are you ever going to trust me again?”

“I don't know...” Peter murmured, still avoiding him. Roman had dressed now and headed towards the door. He stopped in the door way, looking back at him.

“I still love you, you know...Does that not mean shit to you?!” Roman nearly shouted.

“Go!” Peter shouted back.

“Fine, I'll fucking go,” Roman said , turning to the door and pushing it open. “Fuck you, Peter...” he said, but there wasn't much anger in it. It was more sad than anything. He slammed the door shut behind him and Peter heard him head off into the house. Peter groaned quietly to himself, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration as he fell back against the bed. Why did he continuously make things harder for himself? He laid in bed for some time, listening to the silence. He heard Roman leave far later than it should have took him, but he couldn't be bothered at the moment to pretend to understand Roman. He was lucky that he was still tired enough to go back to sleep, and that for the moment the wolf didn't seem to realize they were alone. He was thankful that he was able to go back to sleep, and this time he didn't dream. Little did he know that he wasn't the only one having visions.

Roman had nearly pushed them out of his head by the time he was half way back to his own home. He'd made preparations in case they came true, but he didn't want to think of them. He didn't want to think of Peter. He felt so betrayed. He shouldn't, though. He knew this was his fault. _He'd_ betrayed Peter's trust. He'd kissed him, he'd lied to him. He shouldn't have done that. He felt that this would create a rift between them now that wouldn't heal. But when was Peter going to get the fuck over what he'd done? No, he couldn't blame him for that....He knew what he'd done was heinous. He still remembered the taste...how bittersweet it was, and the horror he felt at the knowledge of what he'd done.

He tried to keep all his emotions bottled. Tried to pretend it didn't bother him, but it did. Roman didn't think he'd ever stop loving Peter, but he wasn't sure Peter would ever give him a chance again. It hurt seeing him despite the fact that he had to. He knew they had to be amicable. Somehow, it hurt even worse that they'd slept together. It just made him want him more. All he wanted was their life back... He'd realized he'd started crying by the time he was nearly home. He was openly sobbing a few minutes before pulling into the driveway. But by the time he had, what he saw made him stop. It was a very familiar figure; a woman he'd come to know by the name of Diamond. At least, that's what she called herself. Roman had no idea what her real name was.

Diamond was a woman who seemed to have grown fond of Roman. Specifically, she was a prostitute. She almost didn't look human; more like a living doll, but Roman seemed to be into that. She had full lips, usually painted with shimmering red gloss and a nose that definitely didn't look natural. She had nearly golden eyes and dark eyebrows that seemed to contrast with her white hair. Well, it was probably blonde but it was so blonde it looked white.

Roman wiped his eyes and stepped out of the car, fully intending to tell her to fuck off. He took a glance at her; she was wearing her usual ruby lip gloss and he caught the shimmer of silvery eye shadow, offset by the black of her eyeliner. She was wearing a dress that left nothing to the imagination. Short, high up on her thighs. Opaque lace in the front and fishnet on the side, revealing a stretch of skin. A golden beaded choker around her neck with some kind of pendant. She was wearing a pair of thigh high fishnets that almost seemed to blend in with the dress, completed with a pair of black heels. She looked good; she usually did, but Roman wasn't in for it tonight.

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked, none too kindly.

“Waiting for you, what else? Isn't this what we do?” she asked, slinking around him like some kind of cat. She ran a red nailed finger along his shirt and it took everything in him not to slap it away. “Besides, I was missing you...”

“Why do you keep coming to me?” Roman asked, not looking her in the eye. “I've got to have given you enough money. What do you spend it on? Drugs?” he asked in an accusatory tone.

“You're my favorite client,” she said, smiling. Her teeth dazzled in the light. Unnaturally white. She suddenly touched his face, trying to get him to look at her more directly. “Have you been crying?” she asked, but there was no true concern in her voice. “Do you need mama to make it all better?” she cooed. Roman didn't know why, but it sounded mocking to him. Maybe it was...either way, he realized he was _pissed_. Before he even had time to stop himself, he was slamming her hard against the side of the house. He was seeing red, and he realized after a moment of having her pinned there he was hard again. Not because he was particularly turned on by her display, but it was something else. He was _so_ angry it was as though his body was confusing hate and anger for arousal.

He released her, shoving her lightly towards the door. Roman didn't even know how he was hard again but he was. And he wasn't particularly horny, but he felt like he needed to let his anger out on something. He unlocked his door and shoved her inside.

“Go wait in my room,” he commanded. She smiled again and he caught the too white glint of her teeth. He looked away and gazed towards the couch where the babysitter sat. Her name was Jessica; an average looking woman with slightly mussed, dark brown hair. She gazed at him in mild irritation with her ice blue eyes, frown gracing her full lips. She was wearing a tank top, a black bolero and dark jeans with sensible shoes. Roman knew Jessica wasn't too fond of him sometimes. He frequently brought home Diamond late at night, and she probably had concerns about him frequently bringing home a prostitute, into the home with his child, but Roman couldn't give a fuck. He took out his wallet, gave her a wad of bills and left without saying anything. He knew Nadia would be asleep. If she wasn't, Jessica wouldn't be waiting downstairs. He made his way up the steps to his bedroom, where he found her waiting by his bed. He was already stripping off his shirt as he made his way over to her.

He shoved her roughly back onto the bed, then crawled on top of her in an almost predatory fashion.

“I love it when you get rough, baby,” she purred. Roman's response to this was to grab her by the neck, forcing her against the bed and choking her.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, reaching between her legs and roughly yanking off her panties. She smiled at him the entire time. Diamond was masochistic, and maybe a little sadistic. That's what drew Roman to her. In reality, this wasn't the first time they'd mixed sex with violence. It was quite common, actually. Roman's mean streak, which was already a mile long, had grown longer. He came to her whenever he felt the need to destroy something. It was mutual destruction. Each time he felt like he was losing a piece of his soul, or his sanity. He knew that this wasn't healthy. He knew, but he feared that if he didn't get his anger out he might hurt someone else. Someone like Peter... Maybe Roman was lying. Maybe he hadn't changed. Maybe it was better for them to stay apart...

He only grew angrier, and roughly took his belt off. He released her neck and grabbed her wrists, pushing her up the bed so that he could tie them to the headboard. He yanked open his fly and pushed his underwear down just enough to free his erection. He shoved her dress up to her stomach, roughly parting her legs before plunging into her with little to no warning. She moaned, but she didn't mean it. Roman was almost certain she never meant it. He didn't know why she was so drawn to him. What made him so special? It had to have been the money. What else would it be? He continued slamming into her, hard. There was a brief thought in the back of his mind that he might break her hips if he wasn't careful. He had the stamina and the strength of something supernatural; she didn't. He wrapped his hand around her neck once more and held it there. She gasped, choked, but the entire time she smiled. Looking down at him with her amber eyes. He knew she was in not true danger.

“Hit me, baby,” she rasped. Roman released her neck, watched her cough some, and managed to slap her. He hit her across the chest at first, but she continued. “Come on baby, I know you can do better than that. I know you need it.” If Roman were a better person he'd stop, but he didn't, and she was _literally_ asking for it. He backhanded her hard against the face. She moaned out, more of a gasp than anything. “Yes, daddy,” she cried. “Love it when you hurt me.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, hitting her again. But he knew she wanted it. He knew that this wasn't going to shut her up. He at least knew he wasn't truly abusing this woman. He knew his orgasm was fast approaching, even though it hadn't been long, he must have run out of stamina from earlier. He bent over her, ramming into her like nobody's business. He put his mouth to her neck, ran his tongue around the red marks from his hands. When he came, shuddering and groaning, he bit down. He could feel the blood rush into his mouth and the scream of displeasure that came from her. That took him back to reality. He'd broken a rule. He'd broken it again... He quickly untied her from the bedpost and pulled out of her. She sat up, rubbing her neck in displeasure.

“I thought I told you not to bite? That's my one rule.”

“I know, I'm sorry, I just...fuck, I can't really get into that, okay?”

“You're too damn kinky sometimes,” she huffed. She gathered her panties and slipped them on, not bothering to clean up. He got some kind of gross, slick thrill knowing he probably had fucked up her panties.

“How is it that you like to be slapped and choked but you can't handle a little bite?” he asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“Because that shit hurts. And not in a good way.”

“Whatever,” he said. He reached into his pants and pulled out his wallet, tossing a few hundreds at her without bothering to look. He knew it was more than her other patrons gave her. He knew it was way past her rates. “Get out,” he said. “We're done here.”

She frowned and stood from the bed, stumbling slightly at first due to the fact that her shoes had gotten a bit dislodged. She slipped back into them and started towards the door. Before she left, she turned to face him.

“Do I scare you?” she asked. It was such a strange question.

“What? No. Why?”

“Sometimes you look uncomfortable when you look at me. And, you know...with the news.”

“If you were gonna kill me you'd've done it already.” Besides, she couldn't hurt him if she tried. She smiled, flashed that bright grin of hers, and headed out the door.

Everyone had heard the news... People were going missing. People who frequented prostitutes. Roman figured another upir had moved into town and had been feeding off Johns. It wasn't any of his concerns, and she certainly wasn't upir. But...her blood was strange. Not inhuman, but a bit different tasting. Then again he'd had different blood types with different tastes. Maybe hers was a rarity.

Roman sat on on the edge of the bed, putting his face in his hands and letting out a sigh. He was beginning to hate himself again. He'd betrayed Peter's trust, he knew it. He shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have done anything. He'd lied to him about not having sex in a while. He'd lied to him about having changed... Peter didn't know that, but he knew it in his heart. He was afraid of what would happen the next time they met. And they would _have_ to meet. And he felt bad about Diamond. God, he needed to get himself under control. Luckily, he'd never felt anger like this towards his children. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hurt them. He could barely live with himself after hurting Peter. It had destroyed their lives...

It had been so good for that first year, and he just wanted to go back to it. Olivia was out of their lives, locked up in jail with nearly no hope of being released. The Jormundpir seemed to have died out, their numbers dwindling until there was nothing left. Pryce had witnessed their death first hand, having noted the skin on his specimen getting thinner and thinner by the day until there was nothing left but a pile of goo in the containment vessel one morning. Their daughter was growing more and more every day. But that's when the blackouts started happening, and the mood swings. And the unintentional violence. Violence that even now he didn't truly forgive himself for. But Roman _hoped_ he was past most of that, now. That his brain had finally healed...he hoped, but part of his psyche told him it wasn't true.

He slipped off his pants, leaving him only in his boxers, heading towards the light switch, when he heard a light knock at his door. He opened it to see Nadia standing there, blearily rubbing one eye. Nadia had changed quite a bit over the years. She looked older than four, being moderately taller than a four year old should. Her blue eyes continued to be subdued from what she once had as a child, with dirty blonde hair that she liked to wear in a braid most of the time. Right now it hung down, mildly tangled.

“Daddy?” she murmured. “I can't go back to sleep. Will you tell me a story?”

“Alright,” he said, leaning down to pick her up. He picked her up, attempting to hold her against him as he spoke with mild exertion, “Let's get you back to bed.” He made his way to her room, pushing the door open, one handed, lit by the glow of her nightlight, and headed to her bed. He set her down on the bed and tucked her in, sitting on the edge of it. “What story do you want me to tell?”

“Tell me about the wolf,” she murmured. It was clear she was still sleepy.

“Okay,” Roman said, swallowing uneasily. By the wolf, she meant Peter. “Once upon a time there was a big, black wolf. He was good, but everybody was afraid of him. They thought he did bad things. Luckily, the wolf had a friend. His friend was the only one who believed that he was good, at first...” he swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling rather melancholy about telling this story. “The boy in the wolf got in a fight. But the boy still loved the wolf, more than he ever knew...”

“Daddy?” Nadia said, concern in her voice. Roman realized suddenly that he'd gone off track with his story and that he'd started crying.

“Daddy's just tired,” Roman said wiping his eyes. “That's why my eyes are watering. No more stories for the night, okay?”

“Okay,” Nadia said, though she sounded disappointed. “Goodnight, daddy.”

“Goodnight,” he said, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead before heading back to his room. He had wished she hadn't asked him to tell that story. She always liked to hear his watered down, censored version of when he'd met Peter. She liked wolves.

He turned off the light and crawled into bed, huddled into the blanket and trying to will himself to stop crying. Roman wasn't sure if he ever did. He was pretty sure he cried himself to sleep. He only remembered crying one minute, and then awaking to his alarm the next morning. He guessed it was time to get on with the day. Ignore everything that had happened the night before, and pretend he was okay.

Peter had woken late in the day, with the incessant howling in his head. He barely managed to get dressed, much less drive, but he was able to make it to Destiny's. She was not at all pleased with the marks on his neck.

“What is this?” Destiny said, gesturing towards Peter's neck with irritation. “Seriously, Peter?”

“Look, I was fucking drunk, and high, and shit happened. It didn't mean anything, okay?”

“You know it meant something to him. Now he's going to think he can just waltz back into your life. And you really let him get that close to your neck? After what happened? You know if he'd gone just a little higher you'd be fucking dead, right?” She felt free to curse now that Andreas had taken Vincent for his visitation.

“I know, Dee!” he snapped. “I don't like it either, okay? I fucking regret it. Why do you think I'm here? I kicked him out last night because I couldn't stand having him in my bed.”

“I bet he was pretty pissed, too.” Destiny replied, still not sounding happy.

“Yes. He was pissed. I don't give a shit, though. He'll get over it.”

Peter had spent the rest of that day filled with the anxiety of the coming turn. He'd stayed with her until he knew he was cutting it too close to get home in time. He rushed home, his body pouring sweat and shaking. He didn't even go into the house, he merely stepped into his back yard away from prying eyes, facing the forest, and stripped. His clothes finding themselves on his back porch, uncaring about what may come of them later. Then the turn happened. He was forced to the ground, his bones cracking beneath his flesh. He screamed in agony, a distant thought that he was glad he had no neighbors forming in his head. He thought he heard a scream join his own but he couldn't tell. It could have been the wolf. It seemed far enough away though that it could be anything. He couldn't be bothered, as the skin split along his back. His mouth filled with blood as his teeth fell, as did the sockets of his eyes. His screams turned to howls as the wolf began taking over more and more. He could feel his jaw splitting, breaking and tearing away as a lupine jaw forced its way from his mouth. He desperately tore away the remaining flesh from his body with one good hand, as his fingers began to break and shift into paws. But finally, it ended.

When his flesh had been torn from his body, he stood above the steaming pile of flesh on the ground and ate. With his belly full he darted off into the forest, intent to just run wild as he usually did. That was his intention until he suddenly came upon a scent. A scent that called to him;a scent that was familiar. He followed it through the trees and over tiny rivers, searching until he came upon a wolf. A black wolf, like him. It seemed to have been following _his_ scent as it came upon him suddenly and stopped. Like it'd been looking for him. It showed no fear, no hesitation, as it came up to him and sniffed him. This was not a wolf he recognized, or at least his primal form didn't. Why was it so familiar? Maybe it was just simply a wolf he'd encountered briefly in these woods before and didn't remember.

The wolf drew away suddenly, its ears flattening against its head and its stance one of fear. There was another scent in the air, and this wolf didn't like it. It suddenly darted off in the opposite direction, but Peter...Peter followed it. It was strange and unusual, not like one he'd smelled in these woods. He allowed himself to get lost in the trees trying to follow this scent. But suddenly, it vanished. Like it'd never been there at all. He thought he had heard a distant commotion of branches breaking, but he couldn't be sure. Now that he'd lost the scent his curiosity of the other wolf grew. But like this new scent, he seemed to have lost that one as well. It was still faint, still hanging on, but it was clinging to the ground and the bushes. It was likely that this wolf had gotten wet, therefor throwing off the scent. He howled into the night air, hoping for a response, but one never came. He was forced to give up his search and instead continued on with his night as usual. All the while, the wolf still a distant memory in his primal brain.

**ART**

**Nikki**

****

**Nadia**

****

**Jessica**

****

**Diamond**

****

**Peter's House:**

**Outside:**

****

**Bedroom:**

****

**Guest Bedroom:**

****

**Kitchen:**

****

**Bathroom:**

****

**Nikki's Room:**

****

**Living Room:**

****

**Author's Note:**

> You may notice that I have kept some stuff vague. It is done on purpose.  
> also sorry if this was short.


End file.
